


Bloodied Hearts

by Reavv



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: BDSM, Bisexual Character, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Relationship Negotiation, Sexual Inexperience, Threesomes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 22:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8465617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reavv/pseuds/Reavv
Summary: Their first time is messy and awkward, fumbling attempts in the dark with laughter pressed against heated skin. Tsuna doesn’t know what to do with his hands, is so nervous he can’t seem to get hard at all, and Kyoko keeps giggling so hard she accidentally kicks him in the face. 
 
They don’t fare much better the second time, or the third. They always seem a step out of beat, never quite lining up, always missing each other. Tsuna always feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, like there’s something in his gut that’s trying to claw out. He keeps expecting his flames to burst out at any second. After a while he realises he’s so used to fighting his body is wired to it as soon as the adrenaline rush hits. 
 
And Kyoko is an adrenaline rush.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lets start a Dom!Tsuna/Dom!Kyoko trend pls

Their first time is messy and awkward, fumbling attempts in the dark with laughter pressed against heated skin. Tsuna doesn’t know what to do with his hands, is so nervous he can’t seem to get hard at all, and Kyoko keeps giggling so hard she accidentally kicks him in the face. 

They don’t fare much better the second time, or the third. They always seem a step out of beat, never quite lining up, always missing each other. Tsuna always feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin, like there’s something in his gut that’s trying to claw out. He keeps expecting his flames to burst out at any second. After a while he realises he’s so used to fighting his body is wired to it as soon as the adrenaline rush hits. 

And Kyoko is an adrenaline rush. 

She’s sweet, cheerful even in the face of Mafia feuds and Flame wars. She’s fierce, learnt on the bloodied battlefield of their youth. She’s loved by family and enemies alike. 

She looks at him in their sweat-slick sheets challengingly. She teases, demands. Her smile is a little vicious and bloodthirsty, and he learns quickly that satisfying someone who is used to being loved is a trial in of itself. 

On the other hand he finds himself challenging her at every step, blood pumping in his ears and hands clenched in sheets so they don’t grab too hard at her body. He feels sick sometimes, at the way his teeth ache and the way her legs feel clamped around his head. 

It’s not always bad. It’s mostly not bad. When she’s smiling at him through the lens of her lashes and making polite small talk to men who no doubt want to stab them in the back, he can feel his heart flutter. When Nono keeps asking when the marriage is going to happen, and she demures and sidesteps the increasingly invasive questions, he loves the shade of amusement in her eyes. When she looks at him over the breakfast table he feels the shades of the way he could love her, forever. 

Their salvation comes from—of all places—porn. Neither of them have much experience with it, but it’s hard not to hear the way the trainees and the men stationed in the mansion talk about it all the time. When they lie in the sheets, too tired with their failures to touch each other but too desperate to find some way to work—even if it’s through the vicarious experiences of other people—they can almost forget the way Tsuna only gets hard after coming back from a fight and the way Kyoko breaks her teeth at the idea that she is not loved enough. 

It’s Kyoko that breaches the topic, huddled together and naked, faces turned outward towards the screen and hands entwined. 

“This isn’t working,” she says quietly, voice even. “The girls all look like blow up dolls and the guys all have horrible facial hair, and if I see another horrible cum shot I think I might never be able to get wet again.” 

Tsuna coughs out a laugh and slaps a hand to his face.

“I’m pretty sure the point of porn is that it’s bad, so people can go back to their mediocre hookups and marriages with the knowledge that they’re normal.” 

Kyoko shakes her head somewhat violently and pushes him so that he’s sliding off of the pile of pillows behind them. 

“That can’t be true! Look just let me—” she pulls the laptop closer and closes the video of a man in a plumber outfit, going to the main page “—look, there’s categories here. We don’t need to stick to plain stuff.” 

She clicks on the drop down and both of them lean in a little. 

“What are you into? Blondes? Threesomes? Big Breasted?” she asks as she scrolls, and Tsuna feels a blush rise even as he laughs quietly. Trust Kyoko to get right to the heart of it and not let the awkwardness of asking her fiance his sexual preference for porn get in the way of what she wants. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think I have a preference,” he says, leaning on her, “you pick.” 

Kyoko hums in thought. Her cursor hovers over a few options before hesitating on one of them. Tsuna feels his eyebrow rise. 

“It’s just,” her lips twist into something between amused and frustrated, “I can tell you want it rougher, something that’s more of a fight, but I prefer it when I’m on top and telling you what to do. I thought maybe—well, I get the feeling you wouldn’t want to be under my thumb like that anyways.”

Tsuna frowns. 

“But I am, I mean. I love giving you what you want, just not—I try, when it comes to sex, I just can’t—.” 

“I know, I’m not angry or anything. Sometimes people are incompatible that way,” Kyoko reassures, leaning on him. She pats his arm and smiles at him. 

“How do you feel about BDSM?” 

Tsuna feels his heart thud in his chest, and he pulls back to look at her more closely. 

“I don’t—I’m not sure how that will help? I can’t see either of us, uh, submitting to each other,” he stutters out, face flaming red. 

Kyoko nods. That is their issue really, both wanting something more, but unwilling to bend for it. 

“That is true, but I might have a solution—”

———————

The new age of Vongola is built on the rockbed of Tsuna’s determination and his family’s ghosts. In every corridor of the villa there’s paintings of past Dons, past deeds, past bloodshed. When he steps into the meeting room and makes small talk with men who would gladly feast on his remains, his smile is painted on with the promises he’s made to those ghosts. A promise of renewal, of change. Of revenge. 

He never did want to become part of the Mafia. 

“This is an outrage!” the messenger for the Auciello family snaps, hands smacking onto the table with resounding force. His corded arms, tattoo-laden and aggressively exposed, quiver with a rage so fine Tsuna can almost taste it. 

He smiles softly and crosses his legs under the desk. 

“I’m afraid we’re not giving you much choice in this, signore Fabian. The land belongs rightfully to Vongola, and we will manage as we see fit.” 

The man’s—Fabian’s—eyes narrow, sparks flickering about his fingers for a second. Tsuna mentally corrects their file on him from a Storm to a Lightning, and doesn’t stop his soft smiling. 

By his side, Kyoko shifts a little, bringing attention her way for the first time since the initial greetings. 

“The Auciello family has been using the land as a drug stockpile for a while, we are aware. We know how much the loss of it will impact your family, and that is something neither of us want. That said, the land is still ours, and it would be hypocritical of us to let you use it for drugs when we have already burnt our own warehouses and decreed a trade embargo,” she says, gently taking one of the man’s hands in hers. Tsuna sees him startle and gentle almost immediately, taken in, as all are, by Kyoko’s warm eyes.

“Vongola’s folly in wasting resources and money is not our concern, our concern is keeping our own livelihood prosperous,” Fabian weakly protests, his eyes swinging around the room frantically, perhaps noticing for the first time that he is alone with Tsuna and his fiancee. The dim light and cheerful fire create an inviting atmosphere, but the presence of the two in front of him is almost predatory. 

“I’m sure we can come to a—mutually—satisfactory agreement,” Tsuna purrs, leaning forward, causing Fabian to lean back as much as he can with his hand still caught in Kyoko’s own. He swallows instinctively. 

“I, uh, the family will not accept…” he trails off, staring at the hand that Kyoko is holding and slightly stroking, “that is, um...”

“Yes?” She asks with a smile, eyes kind. 

“This need not be a hardship, for you or your family,” Tsuna pipes in, getting up from his desk to prowl closer. He can see the tension lines in Fabian’s shoulders as the man swallows, eyes bewildered and confused. 

“I don’t—what are you saying?” 

Kyoko grasps lightly at Fabian’s wrists and pulls him to the side door. 

“Let us show you.” 

—

The first time a messenger walks out of the Vongola mansion bowlegged and staggering, not much is said about it. More than one mafioso has come out of an encounter off-balance, surprised. But when the second, third, tenth does...well, people talk. And Mafioso are bad gossips. 

When messengers start begging to go back. Well. Even the most staunch supporter can’t help but wonder. It doesn’t help that the Decimo and his wife always look a little too smug after those negotiations. 

There's always been rumours of course, rival families looking for any weakness to exploit even if they have to use their imaginations to do so. The fact that Tsuna and Kyoko are unmarried still, despite living together, doesn't help. The Vongola guardians have tried to quell the rumours when they can and root out those that are purely malicious, but even they can't stop all the talk. 

So perhaps it isn't a surprise that the new narrative surrounding the couple expands to their sex life. 

No one in Vongola believes it of course, so many of them remembering how shy Tsuna was as a teenager and unable to reconcile that with the mature man he is today. The downfall of inheriting an empire before you pass puberty, more than likely. So the rumours go around and people either laugh them off or else get angry, and that really should be the end of it. 

Tsuna and Kyoko on the other hand are enjoying a healthy sexual life style that no longer ends in disappointment. Even better, it makes negotiations so much smoother. 

—

Kyoko wants to buy some toys to help with their experimentation, but Tsuna thinks it will take the magic out of it all. It's not really his thing, all the bells and whistles that you seen in the porn. He finds it a little awkward looking sometimes, something to laugh about more than anything. 

But he loves her, and so he doesn't mind at all the awkward event of looking for toys and then having them shipped to a discrete mailbox that they know none of their staff will get to first. 

Even when he's holding the toys in hand, the crop and the flogger and a pair of shiny cuffs, he still doesn't see the appeal. He can hold someone down if he wants them immobile, he’s not really looking into beating anyone up, and besides being rough he’s not really into any of the stereotypical Dom things. 

Kyoko, though, falls in love. She loves the look of the buttery leather collar, the classy leash that can clip to a matching pair of cuffs, the high heeled boots with discrete D rings. She pets the harness they unpack first with the sort of glee he’s used to only seeing for a new cake. 

So really there's no way he could be disappointed in buying it all, despite the hassle it was to slip the purchases under his guardians’ noses. Not to mention Reborn’s.

“Hmm, what do you think, dear?” Kyoko asks with a twirl, showing off creamy skin and dark leather with lace, the corset dipping into her waist in subtle lines. 

Yes, he can't be disappointed at all. 

“It suits you,” he says with a smile, tugging her into his arms and spinning them around a few times. Her giggles press into his chest. 

“And who do you think should be our next guinea pig?” she asks once they’ve settled down a little, breathless in the comfort of their bedroom. She lays on the bed in a sprawl that is only possible because the corset has no boning.

“Hmm,” he muses, “well the Giordano should be showing up in a few days to complain about the water rights in the north. You liked the look of their youngest son, didn't you?” 

“And you liked the way their Cloud kept angling for a fight, so we’re not without choices,” she agrees. 

“Too bad it will be hard to corner either of them alone. Even the guardian will be troublesome with the way Gokudera is clinging lately. He’s been tetchy ever since Don Magiera implied you were having an affair.” 

Kyoko sighs. 

“He’s not the only one, I’ve gotten concerned talks from a few of the girls already. And Lussuria.”

Tsuna sits down besides her and stretches out his legs. To his right a half-opened vibrator package spills to the floor and bounces under the bed. He’ll have to get that before the cleaning staff comes in tomorrow. 

“We could send them on a mission?” He muses out loud, warming up to the idea as he watches Kyoko think about it. The only thing their guardians take more seriously than their safety is the success of the family. They might not follow proper operational guidelines, but they’ll get the job done and with (mostly) satisfactory results.

“Hmm, maybe. Takeshi is on medical leave though, and you know Hayato gets when there’s only only an injured guardian on base.” 

They lean into each other and sigh, almost in tandem. 

“We’ll send Hayato somewhere with Ryohei-nii, keep Hibari and Takeshi at the mansion and then get Chrome to take Lambo out training,” Tsuna finally decides, after a good couple minutes thinking. It’s not ideal, but out of all the guardians Hibari is the least likely to butt into their affairs unless a fight is brewing, and Takeshi will be stuck in the lower levels with his crutches. 

“And Reborn?” Kyoko muses, pulling away a little and tucking her hand into the groove of his arm. 

“Eh,” Tsuna mutters, “he’ll find out anyways. It will be his own fault if it’s in the middle of fucking the prissiness out of Signore Russo.” 

—

There’s a certain amount of finesse when it comes to seducing rivals and allies alike. You have to be sure you’re not about to become an embarrassing news headline by getting murdered in bed, or that they will suddenly consider the sex a weakness on your part and try and get the upper hand with blackmail.

Luckily, both Tsuna and Kyoko are old hands at wrangling Mafioso who think they can outmaneuver someone who was taught by the wiliest bastard this side of the law. And Kyoko has had men dancing to her tune since she grew into her naive charm. 

Truthfully, both of them find most Mafioso too prideful to be much of a threat. Tsuna is used to villains with much more heft than your typical criminal, and Kyoko spends her Sunday afternoons chatting with a still-toothy Byakuran. 

Tsuna slams the youngest Giordano into a convenient wall and swallows his gasp, a set of scarred knuckles set into dainty fingers clutching at his shoulders. Kyoko finishes touching up her lipstick in the vanity and stretches out one silk-clad leg in their direction. Her hand drifts down to a discrete black box by her side and she smiles fondly at them.

“Let the poor boy breathe, Tsu-chan,” she says, voice slightly smokey, drifting by languidly. Tsuna laughs into the neck in front of him and presses a nipping bite when he feels the warm body twitch.  
“Ah—uh, Signore S-sawada,” Carlo Giordano stutters as Tsuna presses him more firmly into the plaster, hands grinding against the thin wrists. Some part of Tsuna muses that the skittish man in front of him is more reminiscent of his past self than a sane person would be comfortable with. Carlo is thin and slight, wide eyed in the darkness of the room. No doubt it was what attracted Kyoko to him in the first place, the nostalgia of a boy long dead. 

Carlo Giordano once killed an entire rival family by setting the meeting place they were using on fire, so he has some things in common with the current Tsuna as well. 

“Hmm?” Tsuna hums, teeth buried in the thin skin of his adam’s apple and one hand lifting to flick the buttons of his shirt away. 

From her position by the vanity Kyoko smiles and uncrosses her legs, standing up, box in hand.

“Um,” Carlo whispers as he catches her silhouette from behind Tsuna’s shoulders. His knee kicks out a little, something between nerves and excitement in his eyes. 

“C’mon, let’s bring this to bed,” Kyoko says, leaning up behind Tsuna and propping her head on his shoulder. Even barefoot she’s taller than him, although without her heels at least he doesn’t have to look up too much to see her eye to eye. 

It doesn’t take much to coax Carlo to the main feature of the room, a little touch-starved and desperate with it. Tsuna thinks he’s probably not had a lot of suitors, not with the way he blushes and stammers and lets him pin him no problem. 

Part of him wants more of a fight, someone he can really pit his strength against. But tonight is for Kyoko, and there’s still a few more days left to goad the Cloud into a more satisfying struggle. 

Tsuna grabs at Carlo’s wrist and twists them behind the man as Kyoko settles on the bed, her back against the headboard. He sets his teeth back in the man’s neck, at the back this time, and pushes so he’s forced to kneel on the edge else fall on his face. 

He leaves a lingering kiss to the red mark his teeth bring to the surface, letting go of one hand to snake his own around to the man’s chest, pushing aside the folds of his open shirt. A staccato heartbeat thuds under his palm. 

“You alright there, Signore?” Tsuna asks as he digs his nails in slightly along the toned skin. 

A little fire lites under the Mafioso’s eyes, and he twists under Tsuna’s hands. 

“I am not weak, Sawada. I thought I was promised more than just juvenile foreplay.” 

“You heard the man,” Kyoko laughs, spreading her legs and relaxing into the pillows at her back, “give him what he wants.” 

Tsuna hitches the one hand he still has in hand further up Carlo’s back, keeping it there just long enough for the man to feel the strain, and then shoves him flat on the bed, hard enough that he doesn’t have time to catch himself. A startled exhale of breath meets the silk sheets.

“Well, if my lady insists,” he drawls, climbing into the bed himself. He digs one hand into the soft curls of the man in their bed and drags him up so he has to shuffle on his knees towards them. 

Kyoko reaches down and cradles Carlo’s face in her small hand, thumb just shy of his bite-swollen mouth. She smiles at the way his eyes are all pupils, desire swallowing the colour until only black remains. 

She takes her hand away to tap a finger against the black box at her side. 

“Than shall we start?”

—

When Carlo Giordano rejoins his posse in the morning, there’s a neat ring of bruises around his neck and wrists, and a rather punch drunk look on his face. There’s silence for a second as the gather Mafioso put two and two together, and then a veritable explosion of noise. 

Accusations, threats, some weepy crying fills the air as the man stands there blinking the sleep from his eyes and pats his sex-mussed hair down clumsily. It will take a thirty minute conversation to convince the Giordano Don not the storm into the meeting room and kill Don Sawada, and another humiliating fifteen minutes on the part of Carlo to explain why exactly he looks like a battered boyfriend. 

The word consent is repeated no less than twenty times, and the word castrate about eighty. 

The negotiations are stalled, and even threatened to be cut completely, but Kyoko’s sweet talk and Carlo’s own pleading save the day. Tsuna, on the other hand, simply smiles placidly and reminds Don Giordano that his son is twenty-two, and fully capable of looking after himself. That indeed, the man is a quite accomplished Mafioso and wouldn’t it be nice if he could show some of the Vongolan trainees a move or two, in the spirit of co-operation?

Carlo blushes bright red and his father is placated, reassured that the night wasn’t meant as an insult to the family or an underhanded move on the couple’s side. 

Unfortunately for Tsuna, the Giordano Cloud seems even more skittish afterwards, and they don’t end up cornering him before the delegation leaves. 

Rumours stick around for a few more days, but by the time Gokudera and Ryohei come back from their mission it’s devolved into idle household gossip by the servants, and easily ignorable. If Takeshi or Hibari catch word of it they don’t mention it, and Chrome comes back with an exhausted Lambo and not much else. 

If Reborn has anything to say about the whole thing he’s keeping it close to his chest, which really is how Tsuna prefers it. 

—

They get the call late in the evening. It’s a quiet night for once, no disasters or fights or attractive young ambassadors waiting in the wings, and Tsuna is really looking forward to sleeping a good twelve hours and then maybe sleeping a few more hours at his desk while he pretends to work. 

Kyoko is already in bed, curled up around the blankets like it’s somebody’s body, and she’s dressed in an oversized shirt with loose shorts. She looks neither overtly sexy or inordinately beautiful, and Tsuna still feels his heart skip looking at her. 

He’s just thinking about joining her and ignoring the stack of paperwork languishing on the bedroom desk when the shrill notes of his work phone go off. In a split second both of them are up and wide awake. 

“Sawada,” Tsuna snaps into the receiver, mind already racing over what it could be. A night raid, an attack, someone injured or dying. Some sort of experiment out of control again. Mukuro in prison again. 

“Trash,” Xanxus spits at him from the tiny plastic screen. Tsuna’s brain stalls for a second at the voice, it’s been so long since he’s had to interact with the Varia leader. Most things end up going through Squalo, whose temperament is slightly less volatile and who’s actually a competent second-in-command. 

“Yes?” Tsuna asks slowly, flapping a hand at Kyoko when it looks like she’s about to get out of bed. He doesn’t think there’s anything going on. Xanxus doesn’t sound any more pissed off than usual. 

“What the fuck are you doing, trash?” Xanxus doesn’t even let Tsuna answer before he’s off on his tirade, voice growling like the cat he keeps by his throne. 

“We’ve been sitting on our asses for weeks while your trash bodyguards go around fucking things up and you sit safe in your tower talking to shitty diplomats. What, lost your taste for assassination or something? Fucking hypocrite.” 

The rest of his rant drifts by as Tsuna’s eyes droop again. Blah blah inefficient use of resources, blah blah, don’t you love me anymore Tsu-kun, blah blah I’m fucking bored you shitty boss.

If Tsuna was a better person, or if he had anything resembling a fear response after the hell that was his teen years, maybe he would try and pay attention to what is honestly a good point on Xanxus’ side. They can’t keep shuffling their Guardians out the door so they can have uninterrupted sex, and they can’t keep poaching from the Varia missions to do so because that just leads to bored and annoyed Varia members. Who kill people for a living. 

Tsuna makes appropriate noises in all the right spots and lays down next to the love of his life, who's already gone back to sleep. He envies her. 

“Right. Of course we still love you and aren’t pushing you away,” Tsuna’s tired brain spits out in a pause. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’s saying. “I’ll send the boys and Chrome somewhere not Varia-related and like, find a corrupt official for you to go threaten. Or something. And now I am going to sleep, and you are going to sleep, and in the morning you can come down and threaten me, if that makes you feel better. Bye.” 

The silence as he hangs up is blessed, and he turns over into sleep before he can even put the phone away. 


End file.
